


on the tip of my tongue

by manusinistra



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manusinistra/pseuds/manusinistra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trish watches Jessica with Luke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the tip of my tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Post-S1, more or less canon-compliant. Still trying to get a feel for these characters.

It’s a Friday night and Trish is out with people from work, sipping a tonic and half-listening to gossip about the guy who does sports the hour before her show. He just lost his money in a pyramid scheme, of all things, and though Trish likes hearing that – he’s an ass, the kind of guy who sees her hair and her face and assumes she has no brain attached – what she likes most is the quiet comfort to being here with these people, to slipping back into life before Kilgrave and realizing that it still fits. 

It doesn’t fit perfectly, of course. There are bruises across Trish’s back and arms that twinge whenever she moves without thinking. What’s more – she likes those bruises; she cultivates them every day in the gym, for they ground her in her body and remind her how capable she’s made it. She may be the face of  _Trish Talk_ , but she’ll die before she needs rescuing. 

As if summoned by that thought, Jessica walks into the bar with Luke trailing behind her. (The part of Trish that begrudges Jessica her powers thinks  _of course_ , because she can train every minute for the rest of her life but against that yardstick she’ll never quite measure up, and the world will never let her forget it.) 

More to the point, though: Jessica in this bar is weird. It’s trendy and overpriced and pretty much the opposite of Jessica’s usual haunts: all the whisky here is small batch artisanal, the kind where you’re expected to deconstruct flavor notes rather than gulping things down in one go. Trish looks a second time to make sure it’s her, but the leather jacket is unmistakable, smoothing over Jessica’s shoulders as she settles into a corner table. 

She hasn’t noticed Trish, which is as weird as her being in the bar. Jessica lives off of noticing. It’s how she stays in control, how she manages being in the world: always know more than anyone else in the room. Now, though, she’s absorbed in Luke, smiling at something he’s said and looking at him like as long as he’s there she doesn’t have to catalogue weaknesses or escape routes, like with him she can be free. 

And Trish has to smile at that, because Jessica deserves some freedom.

At the same time, though, there’s something pulling at the edges of Trish’s smile, and as she watches them lean into each other it goes brittle and false and then drops from her face entirely. She blinks down into her drink, drawing a long, slow breath against the sudden tightness in her chest.

Jessica has always hated Trish’s boyfriends, and Trish has always tolerated that hate without really understanding it. Now, watching Jessica and Luke, she gets it. Viscerally.

And because nothing good ever comes of pretending feelings don’t exist, Trish lets herself sink into this one: she thinks of how close Jessica is to Luke, the way their arms brush on the too-small table, and feels envy prick at her. She lets herself feel it and then she gets up, because she will have to deal with whatever this is eventually but all of the reasons she might resent Jessica’s happiness are stupid and selfish and petty and they’ve been through too much for that.   

So Trish heads toward Jessica and Luke to wish them well, and Jessica’s eyes slide to her immediately.

“Took you long enough,” Jessica says, and Trish tries not to think about why she's so relieved that Jessica has been keeping track of her, that Luke's presence doesn't pull Jessica away from her completely.

“You guys looked happy by yourselves.”

Luke smiles up at her, friendly, welcoming.

“You should join us.”

“No,” Trish says. “I don’t think I should.”


End file.
